


Gravity

by SageGreen



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Comfort Sex, Crowley Has A Vulva (Good Omens), Crucifixion, Developing Relationship, Drinking, Female Presenting Crowley, Just a lil bit of plot, Nonverbal Consent, Oral Sex, Other, Smut, about damn time
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-07
Updated: 2019-08-18
Packaged: 2020-08-11 01:27:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20145289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SageGreen/pseuds/SageGreen
Summary: The demon swallowed hard. Impossibly, he took a half step towards the angel, his slender foot slotting in between Azirphale's sandals. The angel sucked in a breath he didn't need. The night was cold, but Crowley was warm, and Aziraphale could feel his heat through the dark robes. Instincts took over and he tilted his head ever so slightly up to the taller being, eyes fixed on the demon's lips. Crowley exhaled in a shudder and Aziraphale could practically taste him."Please come home with me."





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Sooo I started out writing a totally different scene from this, but here I am. Written in a day out of nowhere without a beta, so please forgive my stupid mistakes/feel free to point them out in comments.
> 
> Important note: Crowley is female presenting in this scene, but I have still used the pronoun "he" throughout. I mean no offense to anyone. It's only to keep things consistent should this turn into a series (which I'm seriously considering especially since, as I mentioned, this was supposed to just be an intro blurb for something else.)
> 
> Thanks for reading!

Three thousand years.

For three thousand years an angel and a demon had been waiting for The First of The Two Big Things; and now, after three three thousand and thirty-seven years, it had finally come and gone.

The pair had stood together silently for hours, bearing witness until the son of God drew his final breath. By the time it was over the sky was dark and it was getting very cold, very quickly. Deserts are funny like that, running so hot and so cold. The humans dispersed back to town before it got too dark to see their way back, but being unburdened by such trivialities as the limits of human vision, the two beings lingered until they were alone. Once the desert was totally, eerily, _deathly _silent, the angel slipped from the side of his companion. Slowly, soberly, he walked toward the cross, dropped to his knees before the body of Christ, and prayed.

Crowley remained still while he waited for the bright figure in the darkness to finish his ministrations. The breeze that picked up as the temperature dropped pulled at the lose tendrils of hair escaping his scarf, but he made no conscious effort at movement. He was trying to remain stoic. It seemed inappropriate that a demon would feel anything other than victory at this moment. Or that a demon would feel anything at all, really. And yet here he was, feeling something, and something other than joy, and struggling not to show that he was feeling either of those things. Luckily after spending three millennia with humans, he knew exactly what he needed to help bury these... _feelings_.

Eventually the angel rose from the sand and shuffled back to his companion. Although he walked straight up to the black-clad figure in the pitch dark-- he didn't need to see to know where Crowley was, never had-- he kept his eyes on the ground. Sad? Ashamed? Crowley didn't have the emotional reserves to suss it out right now. Instead, he wrapped a delicate arm around Aziraphale's shoulders and turned, not letting the angel break stride.

"C'mon, angel. Let's go get drunk."

\--------

The town was in a ruckus by the time they got back, and everyone seemed to have the same idea: to get drunk, for whatever reason. Soldiers celebrating, some disciples in tears, others in terror. It took no miracles either angelic or demonic for them to slip into a tavern and divest the bartender of several bottles of their best alcohol, which was still not very good.

Whatever. It got the job done.

There _was _the use of a miracle to free up a small table tucked into a poorly-lit corner of the tavern, but whether it was the result of the man in the white robes or the woman in the black ones, neither of them could tell you. They picked their way through the crowded room, Aziraphale carrying a jug and two earthenware cups, and Crowley following gracefully behind with two more jugs, one in each hand. 

The pair were barely seated when Crowley uncorked one of the bottles and poured two extremely generous cups of alcohol. Without missing a beat Aziraphale took the cup offered to him, held it up, and... the two looked at one another for a long moment, not sure how to word the toast.

Aziraphale finally swallowed hard and raised his glass an extra inch. "To Christ."

Crowley moved his cup to meet the angel's, and after the dull clink, echoed the toast. His voice barely cracked. And then both drained their cups completely.

Two hands reached for the uncorked bottle, and two hands met on the rough fired clay of it, so wrapped up in their own heads they hadn't noticed the other also already needed a refill. Aziraphale's got their first, and Crowley's cool, thin fingers wrapped gently around his plump ones before they noticed the mistake. 

You would expect a flinch. A shudder maybe, as demonic touch met angelic, for the first time in many, many years. Someone to pull their hand away sharply at the error, at the _zing!_ of electricity between them. And yet, instead, blue eyes flicked up to meet yellow ones, and the hands stayed. 

After a pregnant pause both beings laughed nervously. Crowley withdrew his hand, fingers dragging along Aziraphale's as he did. He held his cup out to the angel.

"Pour," he demanded pleasantly. The angel obeyed.

"So," the blond said, moving to his own glass, "all the kingdoms of the world, you say?" Crowley made a noise that vaguely implied a yes. "Because he was a carpenter who's travel opportunities were limited?" At this line the angel cocked an eyebrow and raised his cup to his lips.

Crowley tried to pretend his gaze didn't linger on the other's mouth as he removed the cup and licked his lips.

"Well. He was also an interesting fellow. You know. Had some clever ideas about humanity and how one should treat your fellow man... or woman." As he said the last part, Crowley gestured vaguely at himself.

"Ah yes. I heard he was generous to the whores," Aziraphale said. There was no malice in the words, but neither was their kindness. Crowley flared up in spite of himself.

"Yes. He was," he spit out, and took a drink, turning his eyes from the angel and instead pointedly surveying the room. Had he been watching Aziraphale he would have seen the shame immediately wash over him.

"I'm sorry. That... that's not what I mean," he attempted, but the demon was having none of it tonight.

"No? Wasn't it? Yes me, just a lowly _prostitute_, a _woman_, quite a bit lesser-than in the eyes of you and your god, innit?" Crowley was truly and properly cross now, and pulled his bony arms in against his chest. "Just like always," he muttered. Before he could think better of it, Aziraphale reached out and placed his arm on the demon's shoulder.

"No, Crowley. You're not. I'm sorry." Crowley would not look back at him, and Azirphale did not move his hand. Instead, he squeezed, feeling the tension of the other even through the cloth of his robe. "I have never thought you lesser-than," he said quietly.

The yellow eyes shifted back to him, uncertain, then dipped back down to the cup in the demon's hand. He rolled his wrist, slowly coating the sides of his cup with the alcohol. 

"If you'd ever met him... why did you never meet him?" he asked the angel. Aziraphale removed his hand from the demon's shoulder and Crowley immediately regretted the loss of warmth.

"Wasn't in my assigned duties," he said, clipped. "My instructions were to try and ensure his safety. Make sure he was born. Lived until the age of thirty-three. Until...." The angel trailed off and took a deep drink from his cup. A silence settled over the table.

"Doesn't make a lot of fucking sense, does it?" Crowley finally murmured. Azirphale didn't answer, just met the demon's eyes, pursed his lips, and took another drink.

Three empty jugs later, the tavern was mostly quiet, the other occupants vacated or passed out, and the chairs the two sat in had migrated to the same side of the table. Two heads with otherworldly hair bowed close together, commiserating, confessing, and consoling. Neither knew-- well, neither would admit, anyway-- at what point their hands had become entwined together beneath the table.

It was a desperate kind of grasp. As if they were both hanging on to the other to reassure themselves that they were here and it was all going to be, somehow, ok.

_I need you._

The tavern keeper began making his rounds to clear out the last of the patrons and before he could reach their table, the angel & the demon slid out of their sheltered nook and silently exited. Their hands did not part.

Once outside, back in the absolute blackness of the night, the two stopped and stood toe to toe, face to face. Aziraphale swayed slightly, the alcohol affecting him, but anchored by his grip on Crowley, who peered back at him with something the angel couldn't quite place in his current state.

Fear? Longing? Desperation?

Loneliness?

The demon swallowed hard. Impossibly, he took a half step towards the angel, his slender foot slotting in between Azirphale's sandals. The angel sucked in a breath he didn't need. The night was cold, but the demon was warm, and Aziraphale could feel his heat through the dark robes. Instincts took over and he tilted his head ever so slightly up to the taller being, eyes fixed on the demon's lips. Crowley exhaled in a shudder and Azirphale could practically taste him.

"Please come home with me."

The angel nodded and after the slightest pause Crowley turned and began briskly walking down the street, fingers still linked with Aziraphale.

He wasn't staying far from the tavern, and within minutes Aziraphale was being led down a narrow side street and up a set of exterior stairs to a second floor room. Crowley pushed open the door-- either unlocked due to it's modest design, or thanks to a demonic miracle-- and Aziraphale found himself inside a sparse bedroom. While his eyes made a circuit around the room and took in the bed, taking up a third of the room, the table and washing station across from it, the chair and chest hidden behind the door that Crowley was softly closing so as not to wake up his neighbors, his gaze fell to the small table next to the bed. And the single, brilliant white feather there.

There was a window over the bed, to one side of it where it was pressed up against the wall, and there was moonlight beginning to trickle in. But the light had not yet crossed the bed to hit the table, and so did not explain the sheen coming from the plume there. The radiance. 

Aziraphale turned to confront the demon about this feather-- _his_ feather, here in a demon's bedroom-- but he got only as far as opening his mouth before the other was on him, hands cupped against the angel's face, insistent but gentle, mouth pressed against his.

For a fraction of a second Aziraphale was caught off guard. For a brief moment he had the thought that he should resist, that he should push the demon, his enemy, he rival on earth, away. That this had been a terrible idea.

Then the moment passed, and the angel grasped Crowley by the waist, pulling him in closer, and pressed back into the kiss. The demon moaned into Aziraphale's moth and the _zing!_ was back, their energies mingling and sparking in the background as their tongues explored one another and teeth clashed. Their kissing was urgent and Crowley slowly realized he was clutching Aziraphale's face much to tightly.

They broke apart and looked at one another, panting. If there was a moment, a last chance, to back out, to try and save face it was now. Neither moved, and Crowley took that as confirmation, and released his last shred of restraint. Once more the took a half step towards the angel, pressing them together from knee to chest this time, and the other's arousal was painfully evident now. As Crowley sucked on the angel's lower lip he moved a hand in between their bodies and palmed the hard, pleasingly thick length of the angel's erection. Aziraphale groaned deliciously, and Crowley was unable to wait any longer.

The demon slowly sunk to his knees and in one swift movement threw back the pale robes and firmly grabbed the angel's cock, licking a hot stripe on the from balls to tip before wrapping his lips around the soft, flushed head and tasting the salty precum there. Aziraphale literally, actually swooned at it, at the swiftness, at the sensation, and had to brace both hands on Crowley's shoulders so as not to topple over. Crowley looked up at the angel coyly, not releasing his grip on the other, but pausing long enough to let him regain his sense of equilibrium.

"Ok?" the redhead purred. Aziraphale nodded, albeit a bit shakily, and Crowley eagerly sunk back onto his erection, making obscene noises as he bobbed his head in time with his tight fist.

Against his better judgement -- against his _manners -- _Aziraphale found himself clutching at those gorgeous read curls as the demon worked his shaft, dislodging the scarf over his head in the process. As much as he might have objected earlier in the night, the demon was obviously well practiced in the art of seduction, his inhuman tongue making quick work of Azirphale's very human desires. All too soon he felt himself ready to peak, and he roughly pulled the demon away, creating an obscene sucking noise as he popped free of the other's mouth. Crowley looked up at him in surprise, yellow irises blown out and covering his entire eye, but obeyed when the angel imploringly tugged his robe to get him to get back on his feet.

Aziraphale reached up and removed his turban, throwing it to the ground, then buried his fingers deep into the red locks and pulled the demon back to him for another long, deep kiss as he steered them both towards the bed. When Crowley felt his calves bump into the mattress he pulled away enough to begin frantically pulling up his skirts, as if time was of the essence, as if delaying the main event might mean Aziraphale would come to his senses. As if he _needed_ this and he needed it _right now._

But upon realizing the demon's intent, Azirphale reached out and roughly grabbed his wrists. Crowley snapped his face up to the angel, the shock and disappointment evident.

"Please," the Aziaphale whispered harshley, "let me do this."

Crowley was completely baffled. "Do what?" He asked timidly.

Aziraphale released the being's wrists and ran his palms up the slender arms, over the shoulders, across the demon's chest. Savouring. _Worshipping._ Crowley sucked in a breath and stood stock still.

The angel carefully began unwrapping Crowley, lifting the draped scarf from his neck, kissing the collarbone when it appeared. He untied the laces at the demon's throat, peeling back the fabric over his chest, and lifted the demon's wrists to undo the leather ties at the forearms, kissing the inside of both wrists. Then the tie at the narrow waist, looping his arms around the breathless demon, pausing to press small, sharp kisses against Crowley's jaw, and stepped back to admire the being in a now shapeless shift. The angel nodded hesitantly, and Crowley slid one shoulder free of cloth, then the other, and after a pause long enough to form a hesitant smirk on his lips, let the clothing fall to the floor and pool his feet.

Aziraphale exhaled, long and loud. "You're so beautiful," he breathed, and the worship was now evident. Crowley stood nude before him, pale, slender, sharp in certain places, and softer than normal in others. Although it was difficult to tell under the draped fabric, the demon had made a modest effort to present as a woman. The slightly wider hips showed off well defined pelvic crests, and the pectoral muscles were padded with slight, shallow breasts, all of which Aziraphale wanted his mouth on immediately.

With one step forward the angel was halfway to his goal, mouthing the gentle rise over Crowley's heart, sucking on his nipple, hands sliding across the demon's narrow waist and down to his ass, squeezing the tight muscle there. 

Crowley grasped and threw his head back, brain momentarily blanking out as he clutched at the angel, fingers tangling in his short hair, grasping his hot mouth to Crowley's chest. "Unfair!" the demon finally wheezed out and pulled one hand away from his partner long enough to snap, and banish the angel's clothes to only God knows where.

If it was meant to be a shock, it failed, and Aziraphale only moved his mouth up to Crowley's again, desperate and searching, and leaned over, forcing the demon back onto the bed. As Crowley fell back, red hair fanning out beneath him onto the straw mattress, knees still bent over the edge of the bed, Aziraphale kept kissing, trailing down the demon's neck, clavicle, chest, a quick suck on the breast he had ignored, down the taught abdomen, and down into the nest of red hair leading between the long, toned legs. The angel lowered himself until, for the second time that night, he was kneeling; this time in front of a demon.

He slowed his progress then, nuzzling the thick hair at the base of the demon's stomach, inhaling the scent of Crowley, prolonging the teasing. The angel groaned in anticipation; his cock painfully hard, leaking already in anticipation, and the scent of the perfect being before him, the one he had longed for for centuries, for thousands of years, nearly undoing him.

Carefully, reverently, Aziraphale ran his hands down the demon's thighs, pressing against the soft skin, and pushed his partner's knees apart, forcing the demon to present himself fully to the angel. Aziraphale placed the narrow knees on his own shoulders. Crowley's shallow breathing did not go unnoticed, nor did his hands fluttering unsure around his own hips, waiting for the angel to do something.

He didn't have to wait long. With enthusiasm Aziraphale closed the gap between them, gently kissing Crowley's clit and earning a high pitched yelp and a jerk of the demon's hips. Pleased, the angel brought his thumbs up to demon's cunt and gently parted the slick, wet lips there before broadly licking the entire length of the opening. This action elicited a moan and a downward grinding of the hips. Aziraphale continued licking and sucking the squirming demon, slowly licking deeper into the demon's body, savoring the taste of him. Crowley's hands were on his shoulders now, scrabbling for purchase, leaving welts on his pale skin, desperate for more.

"Angel, please," Crowley finally choked out, and it was all Aziraphale needed to hear. He rose from his knees and clambered onto the bed as Crowley pushed back on the mattress, making room for his partner. Crowley grabbed one of Aziraphale's shoulders and pulled him closer, spreading his legs, inviting the angel between them. Aziraphale knelt between the demon's thighs and fell to his hands on either side of Crowley's chest before sinking lower, to his elbows, all the while staring into the open, pleading eyes of the demon. Crowley snaked his hands around the angel's back and Aziraphale hungrily kissed him, pressing their chests together, letting his hips sink between the demon's thighs, exploring Crowley's mouth with his tongue while shifting to find the right alignment.

No words were said, no instructions given, as Aziraphale parted from Crowley and twisted just enough to slide his hand between their bodes and guide the head of his cock to Crowley's entrance. He rubbed against the warmth, shallowly, to make himself slick, both of them breathing heavily from the sensation, and nestled against the demon, just inside his parted lips, without pressing in. The angel languidly shifted again and pressed their chests tightly together, hooking his arms under Crowley's shoulders,moving in slow motion as he kissed the demon beneath him then pulled back, gazing heavily into those amber eyes. Crowley's breathing was husky, eyes half closed,and he gave the slightest nod to the angel. 

Aziraphale rocked his hips forward and Crowley moaned as he was parted, reveling in the pressure of the other pressing into him. Aziraphale pulled back and rocked forward again, easing his way into the demon gently, a little bit at a time, working into a rhythm that Crowley quickly matched, moving his hips to meet the angel until finally Aziraphale was fully inside of Crowley. This time it was Aziraphale who groaned, completely sheathed by Crowley's tight, wet heat, and by his desire.

Buried as deep as he could be in the demon, Aziraphale met the other's lips again and kissed him; not desperately, or chastely, or sloppily, but gratefully. In that momentary kiss the two had lifetimes to recognize how much they needed one another; not just tonight, not just to physically process the pain and confusion of the world, not just to console one another, but _needed_ one another as partners, and friends, and finally, now, as lovers. They lingered over the kiss, reluctantly parting,and Crowley breathed against Aziraphale's lips in what was nearly a sob-- or may have actually been a sob-- but that spurred movement back into them both.

They were both at the razor's edge of their arousal, slippery and engorged, and they clung to one another as tightly as they could while still fulfilling their desires, grinding their hips together, Aziraphale pulling slightly further back with each stroke until he was roughly thrusting into Crowley, making the curls bounce around the demon's face as he 's gasped at each strike and dug his nails into the soft flesh of Aziraphale's back. Crowley was steadily tightening around the angel's cock and Aziraphale knew he wasn't going to last more than a few strokes.

"Crowley, I... I'm close..." the angel panted out,

The demon hissed at that and snaked a hand between them, giving his clit just a couple of quick rubs, bringing him past the edge of his arousal and into a blinding orgasm. Without conscious thought Crowley wrapped his legs around the angel's hips, pulling him closer, encouraging him deeper. The move surprised Aziraphale and at the same time struck a strange, primal chord in his human body, and he was overcome by it completely. Obeying an instinct he didn't even know he had, Aziraphale buried himself as deeply as he could in Crowley and came, spilling into him as they gasped out the waves of their orgasms together.

Aziraphale collapsed ontop of Crowley, who was still shuddering through his orgasm, still occasionally clenching around the angel's softening cock. Eventually the demon regained enough control of his body to unhook his ankles from behind the angel's back, and Aziraphale slid out of him, earning a small huff of disappointment. The blond rolled onto his back next to the demon. They were both panting, slick with sweat, staring at the ceiling. Crowley groped along the angel's side until he found his hand, and hesitatantly laced their fingers together. Aziraphale squeezed back.

The angel's gaze had fallen to the window, where the moon was finally casting a fair amount of light over the bed. He didn't know how long he had been gazing at it, but there was a small, insistent tugging on his hand. He looked over to the demon, who had turned his head and was looking at Aziraphale with trepidation.

"Stay?" he whispered. Aziraphale didn't answer, just unlaced their fingers and lifted his arm, inviting the demon to get closer. Crowley didn't hesitate and nestled against the angel's chest, draping a thin arm over the his comfortable belly and letting out a contented sigh. The demon was quickly asleep, plump fingers idly running through his long hair.

\---------

The next morning the two helped the other dress. Crowley finished lacing up the ties on Aziraphale's tunic and took a step back, looking as mournful as was appropriate, considering Christ had died the previous day.

It wasn't why he was sad.

The angel cleared his throat awkwardly, and Crowley's heart sank, prepared to hear why _this was a mistake_ and _it can never happen again_.

"You have one of my feathers," Aziraphale said instead. Crowley's eyes widened and he whipped around to the table next to the bed before he could remember to try and deny the accusation. When he realized his mistake he froze, eyes fixed on the pure white feather. Slowly he turned back to the angel.

"...yeah." Was all the could say. Aziraphale fidgeted.

"Well. Seems unfair. Doesn't it?" He stammered. The demon stared at him, bewildered. "That... that you should have one of mine, and I..." Aziraphale trailed off and gestured lamely a the demon. Crowley, to his own surprise, blinked.

"You want one of my feathers?" He said slowly. And God bless him, the angel blushed. After having his dick sucked by, and going down on, a demon, _he blushed at this request for a token._

"Well, not if it's something you're... that is, if you're uncomfortable with--"

"No, no," Crowley said quickly now, "It's just that I don't, er, have one here. Around. Now." He cleared his throat. "But uh, if you... if you'd like to have one then I'd be happy to... give it to you," the demon finished in a rush. "If you really want it."

Aziraphale smiled, a slow smile that eventually took over his whole face. "I do," he said softly. Crowley slowly smiled back. "Uh, next time then?" The angel said, suddenly remembering that he actually, legitimately had much to attend to outside this room. Crowley also jerked back to the present, clasping his hands in front of him as the angel stepped to the door and pulled it open, all but gone again. 

"Yes!" The demon agreed, and they were both almost back to their usual, public facing, normal selves, "I'll have it for you next time." Aziraphale nodded at that, pursed his lips, and slipped out of the demon's room, closing the door softly behind him. Crowley stayed planted in the middle of the room, listening to the angel's footsteps to fade away. Presently he smiled, before whispering to himself, wondrously, as if afraid saying it too loud would undo it; 

"_Next time."_


	2. Rome - 8ad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A take on the classic "let's go for oysters in Rome!" scene. Divergent from the norm, probably completely historically inaccurate, and full of loving smut. (Continuing on the "comfort sex" theme but not as angsty as the last chapter.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I guess this is officially a series now! "Aziraphale & Crowley's slutty adventures through time" or something along those lines. More accurately though; how they can't stop being drawn together throughout history and seeking comfort in one another. An unstoppable force drawing two bodies together? ....Gravity.
> 
> Please be advised that the genders of our two beloved main characters will change from chapter-to-chapter. I will always do my very best to be respectful and sensitive to all you lovely humans out there, but if you feel I've made a big mis-step at any time, please do let me know.
> 
> Disclaimer for this one: I know very little about the actual topography of Rome. I know enough about it's history to know that some of my dates/historical references in this chapter are outta whack, but hey-- artistic licence!
> 
> I think the scene that I actually meant to write as a one-shot and somehow turned into a smutty series is going to be the next chapter. 
> 
> As always, no beta, apologies for any typos, etc.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!

“_Closed?!_”

The angel looked for all the world like he had just been told he could never have oysters again, not just right now, at this particular establishment. His blue eyes were wide with despair as he stared at the sign on the door of Patronious' restaurant, eyebrows arched together to form a peak in the middle of his forehead.

Crowley leaned in a bit closer over the angel's shoulder to read the sign for himself. “Well, you did say they were popular, right?” he drawled.

“...yes.”

“So, they're probably off catering one of Caligula's _parties._” Crowley straightened up again, arms clasped behind his back, and peered at his pouting friend. He tried not to let the disgust drip from his voice as the emperor's name passed his lips. He failed, but it didn't matter; Aziraphale was still preoccupied with the loss of his lunch.

Or so Crowley thought. Really, what Aziraphale was upset about was the loss of his lunch _ with Crowley. _He had been pleasantly surprised when the demon agreed to his offer to try oysters, and was glad that it seemed to perk Crowley up and shake off his dour mood. Now the lunch as off, and the mood was back. He hadn't seen the demon in eight years, and while that was basically a blink of a eye for an immortal being, the past eight years had seemed longer than the preceding eight hundred. Things were different now.

_Weren't they? _

He was desperate to find out. Aziraphale would need to think fast lest the demon decide to just skulk off somewhere and nurse his temper. Alone. Without Aziraphale.

The angel realized he was wringing his hands, a nervous gesture he'd had since The Beginning and never been able to shake, and redirected his palms to smooth down the sides of his toga as he turned to face Crowley. “Well! Never mind then. I'm sure there's someplace else we can try.” He tried to give the demon a reassuring, casual smile, but it wasn't returned.

It was those dark glasses. He couldn't read the demon very well with his eyes blocked. _Where had he even gotten those damn-- those things?_

“Not sure about that, angel,” Crowley said, looking slowly around. “This place seemed to be buttoned up pretty tight right now.”

Aziraphale looked at the dusty street and realized that the demon was right; the place looked abandoned. They were the only people on the street, and all the surrounding businesses seemed to be closed up even though it was mid-day. Aziraphale furrowed his brow in confusion.

“Big event at the Colosseum today?” the demon asked idly, clearly already knowing the answer. Aziraphale's face shifted from confusion to consternation.

“Ah. Yes. Of course,” he said flatly. “And with the... _parties_,” he cast a glance up to Crowley. Ah. So he had caught the disgust after all, “I suppose that means a fair amount of the populace is engaged.”

Crowley made a grunt of agreement. Aziraphale's hands were fretting again. Desperate not to lose the demon's company yet, he tried a different tack.

“You said you just got into the city? Well, you should let me show you the sights! It's really quite impressive that the humans have done here! I know of-- well, there's a spot, on a hill just outside the city, there's quite a marvelous view from up there.” He released one of his hands so he could point quickly, nervously, down the street the way they'd come. Crowley followed the gesture to the rolling hills just visible over the rooftops where they stood, as if considering. After a moment's hesitation, he made another, more agreeable grunt.

The angel was unable to hide his relief that his invitation had, once again, been accepted, and his face broke into a wide smile. The demon, likewise, was unable to hide how much he loved that smile, and one corner of his mouth crooked up, just slightly.

The pair turned and began walking down the street, unhurried, Aziraphale pointing out interesting shops or restaurants (almost all closed) or sculptures (one of whom bore more than a passing resemblance to a certain angel tour guide and caused said guide to turn a most appealing shade of pink) or beautiful examples of architecture or innovative urban infrastructure (which Crowley was indeed impressed with, but didn't comment on beyond grunts or hums.)

As the buildings began to thin out and they approached the hills, the pair relaxed and fell into a more companionable walk. Even though the city was essentially deserted right now, they were less likely to run across humans where there were fewer human dwellings. It was more like before, when it was just the two of them and a handful of humans, for thousands of years. Sliding back into the rhythm of a relationship they'd had since the beginning of time was inevitable. Finally Aziraphale felt he could speak freely without the demon bolting.

“So. What's got you all worked up then?”

He had expected at least some resistance to the question, but instead, Crowley sighed. “Caligula is a piece of fucking work,” he said. Aziraphale snorted. “So I've heard.” Crowley threw his hands up in the air. “No! You don't have _any idea!_ You couldn't _possibly!_ How in Hell's name am I supposed to tempt someone who--”

The demon proceeded to spend the next mile ranting about the atrocities he had witnessed after infiltrating the emperor's inner circle. Aziraphale winced, scoffed, and occasionally shrieked as appropriate, but otherwise stayed silent, letting the demon pour the poison out of his system.

By the time they reached the spot Aziraphale had in mind, they were both sweating and panting slightly. The afternoon sun in Rome was merciless at the best of times, and there was barely a breeze this afternoon. The angel steered them towards an ancient olive tree, it's stocky branches providing some much needed shade, and sat down with his back against the trunk. Although there was plenty of room for Crowley to do the same, he instead flopped down onto the dry grass, stretching out on his back and folding his hands behind his head.

After a moment for them to catch their breath and cool down a bit, Aziraphale broke the silence. “I'm sorry you had to witness all that,” he offered softly, looking at the demon, who only grunted again in reply. “It couldn't have been easy to stand by and watch.”

“'Twasn't,” Crowley growled. He was staring straight up into the branches above them. Instead of offering more verbal comfort, Aziraphale reached out and placed his palm on the demon's knee. They both felt some of the tension ease out of the lanky body at the touch.

Crowley shifted slightly, a small enough movement to look accidental, but which still brought him closer to the angel. “Makes me feel like... well... I wonder if I'll ever look at certain things the same way again. You know? As acts of... of anything other than malice or pain.”

A wry smile crept onto Aziraphale's face as he recognized the change in the demon's tone. “Do you, now?” The thumb on Crowley's knee began to move in a lazy circle, rubbing flesh through fabric. “I wonder how that could possibly be changed,” he said, matching the not-quite-but-almost-melodramatic lilt in the demon's voice.

Crowly ratcheted it up another notch with a deep sigh. “I don't know! I couldn't possibly imagine overwriting those ghastly, _terrible_ memories! It would take a miracle, I should think. Well, ah, no, not a literal miracle of course but... divine influence, anyway.” Crowley was still looking straight up into the tree branches.

Aziraphale withdrew his hand from the demon's knee and leaned forward, folding at the waist and shifting onto his side next to him. Propped up on one elbow, he reached out and gently removed the glasses from Crowley's face, turning away long enough to tuck them against the base of the tree. Crowley didn't so much as twitch through any of this, but his breathing had shifted back to something quicker than was strictly needed for laying in the shade on a beautiful day, even by human standards.

“Would it?” The angel murmured. Crowley didn't answer, but his yellow eyes slid over to look at Aziraphale, now inches away. The angel's own eyes were gentle, skimming across Crowley's features. His tongue slipped out to wet his lips, and he had a flush in his cheeks that had nothing to do with the heat.

Smoothly, gently, Aziraphale moved his free hand to the side of Crowley's face and laid it on his cheek, heel of his palm on Crowley's jawline. In the same soft movement he stretched against Crowley's side and touched his lips to the centre of his forehead, placing a reverent kiss there.

Crowley's eyes fluttered shut and he sighed in contentment, enjoying the slight weight of the angel against his chest. Aziraphale pulled back and kissed the cheekbone closest to him, then opened his palm enough to place a kiss there too before laying his hand back against the demon's cheek and stroking the skin gently with his thumb. Crowley opened his eyes to find the angel gazing down at him, eyes half-lidded, smiling gently.

“It's working,” the demon whispered. Aziraphale chuckled and moved towards the demon's lips, but a noise from the city drew his attention away. They both turned towards Rome, towards the Colosseum, where the huge cheer had erupted. Aziraphale grimaced, knowing it must mean someone or something had just met a particularly gory demise. Crowley turned back and saw the angel's focus faltering in the light of human tragedy.

“Maybe it was just a victory,” he offered quickly, trying to return the angel to a more positive head space. Aziraphale did turn to look back at Crowley, but his eyes were still troubled, still hinting at distraction. Crowley wasn't about to allow that.

Impulsively the demon lifted his head and pressed his lips to the angel's throat, kissing for just a moment before switching to gently sucking the soft skin there. He felt the fingers on the side of his face splay in pleasure, and when he was sure he had the angel's full attention back, he dropped his head down again.

This time when Aziraphale's eyes met his, they had lost some of their gentle edge, and the blonde quickly ducked down to lick a stripe down Crowley's own throat. The demon let out a soft moan. Aziraphale shifted his body to lay fully next to Crowley, adjusting the angle of his face so that he could explore the hint of collarbone peeking out from the dark, disheveled toga.

Crowley exhaled heavily under the angel's ministrations when yet another cheer arose from the city, echoing through the hills. His voice was low and breathy when he spoke. “You should take part in the games at the Colosseum. You're a soldier after all, aren't you? Battle trained and all that. I bet you'd be quite a sight.”

“Been some time since I've wielded a sword,” the angel murmured.

A wicked grin spread across Crowley's face. “Mmmm. Only about eight years that I can confirm, anyway. And you were quite skilled with your _sword_ at the time.” Aziraphale _tsk'_d against the demon's throat, but as his lips progressed up to his jawline planting small, slow kisses into the sweat slick skin, Crowley could feel them curve into a smile, too.

“You wicked thing. No wonder you're damned.”

Crowley laughed then and turned to face the angel. Aziraphale didn't hesitate before pressing their lips together, letting the kiss linger. The next one was less chaste, lips parting, tongues grazing together, breath coming faster for both of them. The demon shifted one hand from behind his head and tangled his fingers into the angel's hair. After several minutes Aziraphale pulled back just enough to look Crowley in the eye.

“Feeling better?” he asked, trying to hide how breathless he felt. Crowley wriggled slightly in the burnt grass.

“Starting to,” he hedged. Aziraphale smiled at him indulgently.

“You're incorrigible.” He placed a small kiss on the tip of the demon's nose. “Terrible.” Another kiss on the corner of the demon's mouth. “The Original Tempter, indeed.” He leaned into the demon's lips and kissed him deeply this time, tongues intertwined almost immediately, teeth clashing, neither sure whom had gasped at the contact. Without breaking the kiss Aziraphale slid his hand from the demon's cheek, down his chest and across his stomach. When he reached the slim waist he pulled back and looked into the blown-out eyes of the demon. “Is this what you want?” he whispered as he slid his palm slowly down.

Not that he had any real expectations, but as Aziraphale had only ever explored his friend's body once before, he was momentarily surprised when his hand ran not across a smooth mound, but an erection straining against the cloth beneath his palm. The short gasp against the demon's lips and the quick widening of his eyes didn't go unnoticed by Crowley, who smiled wickedly up at the angel.

Before he could say anything to mock the angel's surprise, Aziraphale squeezed. Immediately Crowley drew in a shuddering breath and bucked his hips, fingers in the angel's hair clenching around the light curls; and it was the angel's turn to smile wickedly.

“Beautiful,” he murmured, licking another stripe up Crowley's exposed throat as he loosened his grip slightly and trailed his fingers along the demon's hard length. Crowley let out a shaky breath, but restrained himself from making the noises Aziraphale wanted to hear-- that he'd been playing in his memory over and over again for the past eight years-- and that just wouldn't do.

Aziraphale removed his hand and began tugging at the toga around Crowley's waist, sliding it up his thighs, then sat up to better push the draped fabric back where he could, where it wasn't pinned beneath the demon. In short order he was rewarded with the sight of the demon's flushed cock, swollen and red, the first drop of precum already visible, waiting.

“Beautiful,” the angel breathed again, and without pausing to give it a second thought, bent down and took Crowley's tip into his mouth, wrapping his fingers around his base and savoring the salty taste on his tongue.

Crowley howled and clenched a hand in the fabric of the toga on Aziraphale's back, and the angel drew back, startled. “Jesus, Aziraphale, warn a guy,” the demon panted. The angel loosed his grip and looked up at the demon guiltily. “Sorry,” he said sheepishly. He gave Crowley a moment to get his breath back under control, and the hand on his back unclenched, fingers stroking the angel's spine and pressing him down again.

Aziraphale obeyed, licking the length of Crowley's shaft like he had been licking his throat. Crowley whined, and the angel smiled again, relishing the sound. After teasing the demon by licking every inch of satiny skin he could, the angel tightened his grip again and slid the demon into his mouth. This time he was rewarded with a groan. He sucked on his hot length, swirling his tongue around and over it, bobbing his head, finding a comfortable rythym for them both while Crowley's fingers twitched on his back and the demon made all sorts of rewarding noises.

It didn't take long for Crowley's hips to begin jerking against Aziraphale's fist at the base of his cock, and his breathing to become irregular. As soon as he sensed how close the demon was, the angel slowed his movements and pulled off of Crowley's cock, kissing the head quickly as Crowley moaned in protest and confusion, not having the brain power to form words.

As quickly as he could without seeming desperate, the angel stretched back down against the demon and began fumbling with his own toga, hiking it up ungracefully with one hand while using the other to pull Crowley onto his side to face him. When he had succeeded, he thew his leg over the demon's hip, holding him in place. The redhead was too dazed to fully comprehend what the angel was doing, but on instinct he wrapped his arms around his partner, aching to keep him close.

Aziraphale finally succeeded in lining the two of them up to his liking, his eyes on Crowley's flushed lips as he pressed their hips together and Crowley groaned again as he felt the angel's erection against his own. Aziraphale gasped and wrapped the arm in the grass behind the demon's head, crushing their lips together as they began rutting against one another, grinding together, creating friction and pressure. The feeling was incredible, and Crowley threw his head back in ecstasy while Aziraphale burrowed his forehead against the demon's throat.

The angel's leg pressed hard against Crowley's arse, holding his as tight as possible, but it wasn't quite enough. After several minutes of bliss the angel couldn't take it any more and scrambled to reach his hand between them, taking both their cocks in his palm, rubbing the pad of his thumb over their heads both slick with precum to mix in with the sweat already coating them.

“_Yes,_” Crowley stammered incoherently and tucked his chin to watch with Aziraphale as he ran his closed fist over them both, twisting his wrist, creating sweet, slick friction. Aziraphale's cock began to twitch first and Crowley looked up in time to see the angel's pale eyebrows knit together in bliss as his breathing hitched, on the razor's edge of orgasm. Without warning Crowley was cumming himself, a half-moment before Aziraphale, their shared spend spilling over the angel's soft hand, against their stomachs, coating the edge of their clothes.

Aziraphale kept his hand tight around them until they were both finished riding through their orgasms. They lay together in the shade, panting, foreheads touching, still clutching at one another. As their cocks softened the angel released them and made a small gesture to miracle away the mess, but left their togas to be fixed the mortal way. He moved his hand up to Crowley's shoulder and pulled their chests together. “Better?” he asked the demon.

In response, Crowley tilted his face and kissed the angel again. Deeply, but not desperate this time. He finished with a quick peck on the lips and a warm, soft smile.

“For now,” the demon finally drawled, and he shifted away to stretch dramatically on the grass, his grin shifting less towards _warm-and-soft_ and more towards _shit-eating._ Aziraphale rolled his eyes and groaned good-naturedly as he began straightening his toga.

Crowley sat up and got to his feet in one swift movement, letting his toga settle back over his body in what was more-or-less the way it normally hung. He put his hands on his hips and turned to the city below them. “Haven't heard any cheers in a while,” he observed, and twisted his head around to his seated companion. “D'you supposed that means the event's over?”

Aziraphale picked up Crowley's glasses and handed them to him before gazing over the city. It took only a moment before he understood what the demon was getting at, and he immediately perked up. “And the restaurant's might be open again!”

In spite of himself, the demon's lips curved into a loving smirk, and he held a hand out to the angel . Aziraphale gladly took Crowley's hand, scrambled up from the grass, and didn't let go again until they got to the edge of the city.


End file.
